Finding Fanfiction
by ShawnLassiter56
Summary: Have you ever wondered how The West Wing characters would react if they found fanfiction?
1. Josh and Sam

**Disclaimer: I don't own The West Wing. I also don't own Lucky 13. All credit goes to Candle Beck.**

**Have you ever wondered what, say, Sam and Josh would think if they read fan fiction about them? What about Josh and Donna? Leo and Margaret? Any of the fan fiction fandoms, for that matter. **

**Josh and Sam**

"Donna, can you get Sam? I have something to show him."

"He's right outside your office. You need glasses."

"Whatever. Sam, have you ever heard of fan fiction?"

"Yeah, isn't it people writing stories about movies or books?"

"And TV shows. You won't believe what I found. West Wing fanfiction. As in, fanfiction about us."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. And guess what one of the most popular couples is?"

"Who?"

"You and me."

Sam blinked. "You're kidding."

"Nope. Apparently, we're a very cute couple."

"We are, aren't we?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Can I read one?"

"Oh, sure." Josh pulled one up on his computer. "How about...Lucky 13, by Candle Beck."

"What's it about?"

"It's basically about me, on Friday the Thirteenth, getting a lot of bad omens, and then my luck turns around and I wind up making out with you in your kitchen. It's really good."

Sam read it quickly. "Well, that sounds fun."

"Yeah."

"Why a kitchen?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why not an office?"

"I don't know. We do make a pretty cute couple, don't we?"

"Adorable."

"Just darling."

"Delightful."

"Sam?"

"Yes, Josh?"

"I'm going to kiss you now."

"Alright."

And so he did.


	2. Leo and Margaret

**Disclaimer: I don't own The West Wing.**

**Leo and Margaret**

"What the hell?! Margaret, get in here!"

"What?"

"We're being watched."

"Maybe. It's certainly possible."

"People are watching our lives, pairing us up, and writing about it! Online!"

"Yeah, right. Let me see...they call us 'The West Wing'? Well, that's not very creative!"

"I just found out that we've been watched for years by complete strangers, and you're concerned about what they call us?"

"I'm just saying, they could try harder. Ooh, communities. They're watching everyone!"

"Yeah."

"Everything Sam, Josh and Donna, Josh and Donna again, CJ and Danny..."

"Josh and Sam?!"

"That's...interesting. Leo and...oh, god."

"Are you serious?"

"We're a couple, I guess."

"Isn't there something we should be doing, someone we should tell, that we're being watched and have been for some time. Are the cameras everywhere? What if they're in the Oval, or the Situation Room? I need to go tell CJ." Margaret grabbed his arm. "What?"

"It's a little weird."

"A little? Well, we have our understatement of the century."

"Yeah, but...us, being a couple. It's weird, you know?"

"Yeah, absolutely."

"I just never really thought about that. Did you?"

"Oh, no, never. I'm going to go talk to CJ. You should probably read some of those; see how much these people know."

"Okay, is there any particular one?"

"Yeah, check out Josh and Sam. That'll be funny, if nothing else."

Margaret nodded and retreated to her computer. She had never considered Leo and her possible, for some unknown reason. He was the boss; she was the assistant, that was that. But now, finding out that people they had never even met wanted them to be together, it gave her a new perspective. It was silly, more pointless than the White House email system, she thought bitterly, but still, it was a big what if. That night, when she returned home, she sat at her computer for almost an hour poring over fan fiction. At the end, she realized that she made a huge mistake.

She had fallen for Leo McGarry.


	3. Josh and Donna

**Disclaimer: I don't own The West Wing.**

**Josh and Donna**

"Joshua, we need to talk."

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"We're not dating."

"That never stopped us before."

"Josh!"

"What do you want?"

"I found something online today."

"You've discovered my criminal record, didn't you? I swear, I didn't mean to electrocute all those cows."

"_Fan fiction_, Joshua. Fan fiction."

"Isn't that, like, a cult?"

"You're an idiot."

"Yeah, I know. Fine, what is it?"

"It's fiction, written by fans of TV shows, movies, books, stuff like that."

"Why do I care?"

"Because they're writing about _you_!"

"Me? But—I'm a person, Donna. My life isn't a TV show!"

"According to the fan fiction community, yes it is. It's not just you. Sam, Leo, Toby, the President, the First Lady, Zoey, Charlie, me, everybody, really. They call us 'The West Wing'."

"Well, that's original."

"I know, right? Apparently, there are cameras hidden all over the White House. So, we're on the verge of a national disaster."

"Huh. This could be a problem."

"I haven't told you the craziest part yet."

"Which is...?"

"Our fandom."

"Our what?"

"Our fandom! Apparently, there are hundreds, maybe even thousands of strangers worldwide that want us to date."

"Strangers? Not only have people been watching and/stalking us for who knows how long, they're pairing us up? Are we the only pair?"

"Ha, nope. We've got Sam and Ainsley, Toby and CJ, Leo and Margaret, and, um...you and Sam. Those aren't the only ones, either. But we're the most popular couple."

"Shouldn't we be telling people they're being watched?

"Yeah, we really should."

"Or, we could start writing our own."

"What?"

"We can open an account and write stuff about people! Oh, we could probably blackmail people with it, too!"

"Spoken like a true politician."

"Donna, I'm taking advantage of a grim situation and giving myself some much-needed fun!" His fingers were flying across his keyboard. "I'll call myself...LymanLover2502!"

"Egomaniac."

"Donna, I'm undercover as a Josh Lyman fangirl. The name is part of the disguise."

"Who are you gonna write about?"

"Um...me, you and Sam, getting lost in Hawaii."

"I would read that."

"Let's get to work."


	4. Sam and Ainsley

**Disclaimer: I don't own The West Wing.**

**Sam and Ainsley**

Ainsley was running, taking the stairs two at a time. She was wearing stilettos, so this was no small feat. It's quite a jog from the Steampipe Trunk Distribution Venue to the Communications bullpen. But her news was worth the run. She only stopped once, to retrieve a muffin from the Mess. When she finally came to the west wing, she busted into Sam's office.

"Sam, I...I...I have something to show you."

"Did you run all the way here?"

"Maybe. Give me your computer."

"Well, that's—"

"Don't be cute, Sam."

"I can't help it."

She rolled him aside and typed in a few addresses. 'Fanfiction, my friend."

"Oh yeah, I've heard of that."

"Click on TV shows, then W, then scroll down and look at the bottom left corner."

He did as he was told. "The West Wing? As in...us?"

She nodded. "We're a TV show, Sam. We aren't real. We're played by people. Real people. Everything we say is scripted and rehearsed."

"Wow. Is the whole world scripted?"

"I don't know. Maybe our people live in one world, and real people live in another."

"Who plays me?"

"Rob Lowe. Apparently, I'm played by Emily Proctor."

"Well, at least we're sexy."

"Sam, this isn't funny! Maybe we're dead, and the White House is all of our hells! What if, when you die, you just move to a different universe, and the living watch you?"

"You sound like an Aristotle wannabe. I'm sure there's some logical explanation."

"The only logical explanation could be that there are cameras everywhere we go. This could be a pretty big problem in the White House."

"So, we're pretty much screwed either way."

"Yeah."

"I'm going to read some of this and see what I can find out. Can you help?"

"I have work to do."

"I'll order a pizza."

"Let's do this."

O00oo00oo00O

Ainsley was reading a story about Josh killing Donna's cat, Sam was reading one about him and Ainsley having kids. They were both very, very worried.

"What if they're prophets?"

"Sam, what the hell are you talking about?"

"What if this is our future?"

"I just finished one about me getting drunk and singing Blame it on the Bossa Nova to the President. God knows that'll never happen."

Sam sighed. "Yeah, you're right. It doesn't make sense. Have you gotten to the one about us having a daughter?"

"Which one?"

"The really long one."

"Oh, yeah."

"I think we'd be good."

She looked up at him and blinked. "Hmm?"

"We'd be good parents."

"Gosh, Sam, buy a girl dinner first."

"That's not what I meant."

"What _did _you mean?"

"I...I don't know, exactly. Something about these, the stories, it just makes me wonder."

"Me too."

"You know, about if we could work."

"Maybe."

"Maybe you wonder, or maybe we could work?"

"Maybe we could work."

"You don't know until you try."

"That's true."

"After we finish this pizza, do you want to get a drink?"

"But you're not real. Neither am I. What's the point?"

"Just because you're not real, doesn't mean you can't feel."

"Did it hurt?"

"Did what hurt?"

"Falling out of a Disney movie."

"Maybe that's where we're from."

"You're an idiot."

O00oo00oo00O

Sam and Ainsley sat at the bar, debating the ERA and stiletto feminism.

"If I'm choosing to be that way, it gives me the power. Conforming to some kind of bra-burning feminism would be no different than wearing my hair in pigtails and carrying a lollipop."

"How's that?"

"Either way, I'm doing what other people want, not what I want to do."

"Ainse, I'm to drunk to be debating right now. Can we just talk?"

"I actually have to go. I promised Oliver I'd have a write-up on his desk by Monday, I need to work on it."

"Okay."

"Bye, Sam." She kissed his cheek and hugged him. "We should do this again."

"Bye, Ainse." He was left on his bar stool, alone, with a goofy grin on his face. When he finally got his mind working again, he hobbled out. He started stumbling down the sidewalk with a few things on his mind: Ainsley always smells like cupcakes, but maybe that was just his imagination. They weren't real, how could she smell like anything? Huh. Makes you think. She's right about stiletto feminism, though he'll never admit it.

He knew he had one thing to thank for giving him the courage to ask Ainsley out: fanfiction. So what if it meant they weren't real, he didn't care about real or not real, it doesn't matter. Not when it also means you're brave enough to put yourself out there and be happy.


End file.
